Boromir's Boat

Summary: Galadriel must play her final part in the War of the Ring, but the Ainur know there is a disturbance in a corner of her heart: it must be put to rest in order for her to exert her powers fully.

Chapter 1

Galadriel looked
over the objects arranged on the table, counting silently. They were
all there, her tools and aids for the task they would have to carry
out this day. She placed each one in her pack carefully and tied it
shut. Everything was ready.

As she turned to go, a
whisper brushed her ear and she stopped, alert. There it was again:
so very soft, it could be mistaken for any teasing, kissing breeze.
The White Lady looked about her, feeling for the source of the call.
She slung her pack over her shoulder and began the long descent to
the ground below.

How many times had
her feet slipped over each step of the great staircase... they were
not innumerable: she had counted them more than once, and always they
gave three hundreds, a score and one. It came to her mind, now, that
there would be only a few more days for her, in the elven-count,
under the eaves of the golden mallorn forest.

“The Blessed
Realm, at last,” the thought fleeted by. There were several tasks
to get done before the voyage, some pleasant; the one today was not,
although it would bring light and song back to Greenwood the Great.
As she followed the stairway around the huge bole of the mallorn, the
whisper touched her cheek once again. Stronger, now, and surely
coming from a small bower across the open space below, where many
herbs sprouted and bloomed under the love of her hands.

Her footsteps
followed the summoning sigh and brought her to the fragrant spot.
She cherished the hours spent there over countless years, but it was
not in her plans for this day; however, the call came for a purpose,
she knew, and would contribute to the forces coming together for this
victory.

There. Yes, the
small shapely bush in the farthest nook of the bower. The savanam,
small but ancient, with its beautiful curving leaves so often carved
and woven into the decor of her artisans’ good works. She knew the
powerful plant spirit that abided in it, though they seldom spoke.
If it was calling to her now, there was surely a cause.

“Tell me, I am
here with you to attend your message,” she whispered into the tips
of the leafy branches. “I will close my eyes and bathe my face in
your sweet scent.” She emptied her mind of all else and waited. A
moment passed and she saw in her mind’s eye a golden belt in her
own hand, made of linking leaves of this very bush, fashioned from
the metal beloved by Arien, the Sun. She was then fastening the belt
around the body of a tall warrior, son of Men. “Boromir!” she
breathed. “The fallen champion of Gondor... what of him, dearest
angel of the greenlife?”

Like shadows
flickering in the noontide forest, she saw many likenesses of the
lost warrior, instants of his days following the Brotherhood’s
parting from Lothlorien. In all of them he was sad, tormented, and
suddenly swept away by evil: first in his very own actions, and then
by the servants of the Enemy. “This I know, kind spirit, and of
his untimely end. They placed him, his brothers... Elessar, Legolas
and Gimli, in one of the boats we sent them with to speed their
journey and carry the burden more safely. They placed his broken
weapons and the Horn of Gondor upon him, and the swords of his
enemies beneath his feet, then they sang for him and gave his body to
the Great River and the Falls of Rauros.” She sighed. “He
amended his wrongdoing at the end. He gave his life to protect the
Perian cousins, and confessed to his king with his dying breath.”

She felt the golden
mist of Rauros and the churning force of its waters regaining their
way across the plains of Rohan. Out in the middle of the wide stream
she saw a tiny boat, riding low in the water, and again a spattering
of pictures of a long untroubled journey. “I know also that he
came for an instant to his brother Faramir, watching upon the banks
of Anduin, and that he left behind only the halves of his great
horn... that found their way to his father’s hands... I know the
grief in the City of the White Tower.” Galadriel paused, and
brushed her face softly on the leaf-tips. “This is what I have
seen. Will you tell me more?”

Instants appeared
in her mind of the small boat’s drift following Anduin’s long
loop around the skirts of Mindolluin and the Pelennor Fields. “His
beloved city would have all turned out to honor him, and strew the
entire river with flowers, had they only known,” she mused, “but
he went in secret and in silence, finally at peace, far from the
battle brewing around him.” She saw then the dawn of a day on an
ever-widening stream, and heard the crying of the gulls on their
flight inland. The elven-craft came finally to the merging of salt
and sweet, and was soon swept onto the gently swelling mountains of
the Sea.

“He was taken by
Uinen, then, my dear tree-sprite, was he not?” A flutter against
her cheek bade her sink again into the images in her mind. She saw
Boromir’s boat sliding through waters strangely gentle, and she
knew that both the craft and its sleeping rider had passed from Time
counted by Men and even from that of the Elves. “This that I see
may have passed already, or it may be passing as I gaze upon it. Or
it may be a foresight of that which will come. What special grace,
far beyond our simple spells, is drawing him? And to what place, if
any? Perhaps the Ainur of the Deep will send him to drift over the
endless Sea... until...”

* * *

A tiny atoll on the
fringes of the Shadowy Seas glittered in the first rays of the rising
Sun. The water, a wide round blue plate, faded into the distant mist
that mirrored back her golden warmth. A small, beaten boat
approached the islet as if coming home from a hopeless journey, home
at last, and nestled into a crevice that drew it in as would a
mother’s arms. Finally, the elven craft came to rest and the clear
water pooled within it was still. The warrior was yet asleep, and so
would remain.

Much later, a
sea-bird chanced to seek on the atoll a place to perch and survey the
border of the Sundering Waters before attempting the long flight
westward. It came upon the little boat held fast among the rocks and
settled on the high carven prow. Almost it squawked and took again
to the air, so surprised was it at the sight of a Man (always so
dangerous even in sleep) and his gleaming metal sheathed in water
both sweet and old, from far away, still circling sparks of energy
drawn from the depths of unknown force of a falling river. The
quietude reassured the cautious bird and called it back to inspect.
Shiny objects and red-blooded flesh, most attractive but hardly to be
reached through the strange tingling water. Better advised, it shook
out its feathers and preened itself, then focused on the venture
ahead and took flight with a powerful spring. It became a dot and
then a speck against the western wall of mist, and at last was seen
no more.

* * *

A tiny sob shook
Galadriel’s body. “So he is there,” she thought. “Until
when, until what? How came he to that holy spot between worlds, and
why?” She focused inside herself and questioned the plant spirit
once more. To her mind’s eye came again the atoll, and from the
waters arose a figure long-remembered, seemingly a female of marine
beauty. Her long hair streamed away to become foam and weeds and
water, and her skin glistened with scales and barnacles and minuscule
sea creatures. “Uinen!” breathed Galadriel. “Our beloved Lady
of the Seas... my heart breaks with joy to see thee once again... Is
this a foreshadowing of my own return to Aman, and my absolution? Or
simply an answer to my question, this mystery of Boromir?”

The watery figure -now
huge, now slender- approached the elven-boat and raised her arms,
streaming with ocean surface. She embraced its contour and blessed
it with a breath of life, then turned and faced Galadriel’s mind’s
eye. A deep, sweet voice, almost too strong to bear, vibrated in the
Elf-Queen’s inner ear.

“This son of
Númenor will sleep here until the final day of reckoning with our
Great Enemy. There was in your heart, Artanis, a corner restless for
the fate of this Son of Men, Second-born of Ilúvatar. Did you not
feel this?” The deep-sea eyes of Uinen gazed into the core of
Galadriel’s being.

“I did not, before, but
now I see that there was. I mourned his loss, and wondered about
him. What I see at this time, from afar, fills me with joy and
wonder.”

“A warrior
without peer he was, and will be when he is called to awake once
more. Like Turin Turambar, son of Hurin, and chosen others of their
stature, they will give battle at our side against the final coming
of Melkor, and in that service will clear away the stains of their
wrongdoings. Proud and hasty choices, rather than evil in their
hearts, led them astray... as thyself, Artanis. But thy story is yet
unfinished, and I would have thee victorious this day. Go therefore
in thy full power, Artanis, and know that I am with thee.”

Uinen seemed to
dissolve into the sea, and with her the entire picture in Galadriel’s
mind. She felt again the leafy tips of the savanam
against her face and its soft scent around her. As she straightened
up and opened her eyes to the daily sight of her mallorn-forest, she
felt tears streaming still down her cheeks. She sniffed and sighed,
then laughed softly.

“Even after so
long, one does not entirely know one’s self. This tiny sorrow in
my heart over Boromir’s final fate, unaccounted for, could have
hindered the wholeness I need for the breaking of Dol Guldur. The
Valar with us always; their grace, infinite.”

She lifted her pack
and slung it across her shoulder. Her steps, strong and springing,
crossed the clearing and turned towards the greensward where the
boats awaited. So many, called together to carry the Host of Lorien
across Anduin, to root out the evil ones still possessed of hill and
forest even after the passing of their master.

While she waited
for Celeborn to board, her thoughts flew briefly to Frodo and Sam,
then to Aragorn. Against all that could have been expected, against
all the long strategy and brutal force of Sauron, they had won the
day. The day and the Age. She thought then of Mithrandir, the
master player and executor of the will of the Valar, and desired his
company and conversation in the days to come.

“Arwen, my
child,” she spoke softly to her granddaughter, “to you alone will
I reveal this day’s wonder. When you are Queen of Gondor, the very
same peace brought to me by the vision may serve to soften the
lingering sorrows of others. Your Elessar, who still feels this loss
deeply, and the good brother Faramir. Perhaps. You will judge
wisely, I know.” She sighed once again.

There was that, she
knew. They would return to Aman, she and Elrond and Mithrandir, and
the Ringbearers; later, her own beloved Celeborn, and Elrond’s twin
sons, and even Círdan, at the very last sailing from the Grey
Havens. All the High-Elves would return, over the coming years, but
not Arwen. There was the coming joy of embracing once more her
darling daughter Celebrian, and the sorrow of the final kiss of
blessing on Arwen’s brow. “Such is the nature of love, and
loss,” she sighed to herself. “We have so loved this
Middle-Earth, that even in parting we will leave for its happiness
the brightest of our stars.”

As she settled
among packs and bundles, she thought again of Boromir. “A hero’s
fate for his hero’s heart,” she smiled to herself. “He will
awake at Uinen’s call as if from a gentle night’s rest. His
wonder will be short-lived, for he will suddenly find himself within
the light of the Valar’s forces, helm and shield and breastplate
shining bright, and surely she will bring him a great sword.
Careless of where, he will surely know what, and he will do his part.
Namarië,
son of Gondor.” She smiled again. He would most certainly look
very handsome.

Write a Review
Did you enjoy my story? Please let me know what you think by leaving a review! Thanks,
Marghana

Kayla Wentz:
This book had me hooked from the beginning! I kept coming back for more. It only took me a day to read! I couldn't put it down! Absolutely A-Mazing! This book keep the story going and there's never a dull moment!

MavisMcQueen:
"To Live Again" is a well crafted, highly engaging, heart vibrating tale surrounding our favorite Elven King. The author will keep you engrossed until the very end and by that time you will feel so strongly for Clara and the other characters that you will never want it to end...like ever. Thrandu...

Lauren Suzmeyan-Raine:
I'm so glad you found a place to post your stories. I was horrified when I saw yours had been taken down, they are definitely the best 'reading' stories I've ever read. And I've made it my business to read every one I can. Well done.Lauren

ernbelle:
When I first started this story I was a little unsettled by all of the information that appears in the prologue, and wasn't sure if I would continue. However, I am very glad I did. The plot was very well thought out and really interesting. There were not any page breaks or markers to acknowledge ...

Flik:
Hi! ^.^ huge fan of yours on ff.net! When I saw the note about this contest on The Way We Smile, I couldn't help but rush over here, create an account, and vote! XD Seriously love this story and would recommend it to anyone! :D best FT fanfiction out there. Amazing story, amazing concept that wa...

Animeviewer:
It is one of the best stories I've ever read. This story will have you riding a roller coaster of emotions and nearly dying to know what happens next.You will get very attached to the characters and in my case I relate well with some of their very traumatic or emotional experiences, Just Juliet f...

Hudson:
Your story was fantastic Erin! The Rising Sun was one of the first stories I read on Inkitt, and I have to say I don't regret the three to four days I spent pouring through the story.Probably the biggest strength I see in your writing is your characterisation of Eliana, Oriens, and the rest of th...

europeanlove:
I gotta hand it to you. I love reading. I read books everyday. When the book is good I can read it in probably 13 hours. Your story was amazing. Great prose, very imaginative. Incredible dialogue. I am deeply impressed. Keep it up.

Jenn Deering:
This is a go-to story for when you're needing a little happiness in your life. It's well-crafted, and characters are true to their show-selves. The pace is right, there are minimal grammatical errors, and the plot is fresh.

Felisa Yoder Osburn:
I really enjoyed the story. Civil War stories are some of my favorites and the intertwining of the past with current times was wonderful. I look forward to reading the next stories.

summerstone:
Seriously this is one of the best books I've ever read. The plot is intriguing, I love the narrative style. Its very descriptive and unique, with minimal cliches. It makes for a great read and the sequels are amazing. Totally worth reading. ^^ That's me trying to be professional. But in all hones...

Schaelz:
I was intrigued from the second I started reading, and it kept my interest the whole way through. Chelsea has a way with words that will enchant you until the very end. She is very poetic with the way she mixes genres and keeps you on the edge of your seat. The main character is also very relat...